


Battle of the Boy Bands

by kittychan_in_wonderland



Category: Romeo & Juliet - Takarazuka Revue, Romeo And Juliet - All Media Types, Romeo And Juliet - Shakespeare, Romeo et Juliette - Presgurvic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Boy Band, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, F/M, Humor, devious mastermind juliet, hummers are funny, this thing is so ridiculous i swear
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2016-01-08
Packaged: 2018-04-15 02:32:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4589703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittychan_in_wonderland/pseuds/kittychan_in_wonderland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Juliet secretly enters Tybalt in a music competition that Romeo and his friends have also entered. Hilarity ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Somebody brought up boy bands during a stream of Zuka's Romeo and Juliette so this happened. It's based on the cast from the 2012 Takarazuka production but should make sense to anyone who knows the characters (my sister hasn't even read the play and she thinks it's funny...).  
> I did move Verona to an American small town because of a lot of the jokes I wanted to make. It's located somewhere in the Northwest states.  
> This is also being posted on tumblr, but I figured it should be here too so it's easier to find.

“Here’s the mail, Mother.”

Tybalt looked up as Juliet handed a neat pile of letters to her mother, then bounced into her seat at the breakfast table across from her cousin.

“Is there anything for me?” he asked, more out of desire to keep the conversation on a neutral topic than out of any actual interest. Thus, he was quite surprised when his aunt, not even looking up from the rest of the letters, held one of them out in his general direction.

Frowning, Tybalt examined the envelope, wondering who it could be from—a challenge from a Montague, perhaps. “Media Starrz, LLC?” he read off the address label, now even more confused.

“What is it, Tybalt?” Juliet asked as he tore the envelope open and removed a folded sheet of letterhead.

“Hang on, I’ll read it…” Tybalt scanned the page to see why on earth a company with a ridiculous name like that would have any reason to contact him. “Pleased to inform you…that you have been _accepted as a contestant?_ …next season of _Boy Band Starrz_ begins filming in August.” Tybalt set the letter down and looked in the envelope to see if there was any explanation of this prank. He found nothing but it seemed like the sort of ludicrous thing Mercutio might think was funny.

“Wow, that’s great, Tybalt!” Juliet exclaimed, clapping her hands and nearly toppling her glass of orange juice.

This jolted Tybalt out of his daydream of revenge on Mercutio. “Huh?”

“Isn’t it great that your audition was accepted. The audition you sent in. By yourself.”

Juliet used this firm tone of voice very rarely, but when she did there was nothing that could be done except agree. “…sure?”

Tybalt looked at the letter again. Now that he had gotten over his initial shock, there was something about an audition in it. Juliet was now smiling knowingly, so she was clearly to blame for this nonsense.

He did sing sometimes—he liked singing, it was relaxing and when he was swept up in a melody he could briefly forget his duties as guardian of the Capulets. But he knew he had never taped himself, and he avoided singing where anyone could possibly hear him. There was no way he would ever go on television where all of Verona would watch his performance!

Tybalt shoved the letter roughly back into the envelope. “I’m not—”

_“Isn’t it wonderful.”_ Juliet snapped. _“I can’t wait to watch.”_

“Yes,” Tybalt conceded immediately. His younger cousin was tiny but could display all the ferocity of the Capulets when she wanted.

“Don’t you think so, Mother?”

Mrs. Capulet glanced up from the letter she was reading. “Hmm? Oh, certainly. Why, if he wins it would be a great chance to show the superiority of our family over those wretched Montagues.”

“There, you see?” Juliet beamed. “Now, let me see that letter. We have to make sure you’re ready in time!”

 

* * *

 

Juliet was so busy with ‘preparations’ the rest of the day that it was after supper before Tybalt could confront her about her treachery.

“Why would you do that?” he demanded, finally cornering his cousin in the library, where she was sorting through a pile of books of sheet music.

“What, don’t you like singing?” Juliet retorted, marking one of the pages but shutting the book before Tybalt could see what song she had chosen.

“That…that’s not the point.”

“I kind of feel like that _is_ the point, Tybalt.”

“But—” Tybalt decided to try a different angle. “How did you even know?”

After setting aside the books of sheet music, Juliet picked up her tablet and flicked through a few screens. At first, all that could be heard was fuzzy crackling, then soft humming and a few guitar chords.

_“I dreamed a dream in time gone by_

_When hope was high_

_And life worth living_

_I dreamed that love would never die…”_

“…I thought you were asleep,” Tybalt protested when Juliet paused the recording. He remembered when it must have been: one night when it had been too warm in his room he had gone out on the balcony with his guitar (a worn instrument he had secretly rescued during preparations for a Capulet family yard sale). “Is that what you sent in?”

“Yes, and it seems that they really liked it. This is going to be fun! You should be happy.”

Tybalt sighed. “Juliet, I know you’re trying to be helpful and do something nice for me, but I can’t do this! I’m not going to go out and sing in front of people, what will they think of me?”

“They’ll think you’re good looking _and_ talented. I’m going to have to buy a broom to beat off the fangirls.” From how glibly the answer came it was clear Juliet had been thinking through this scheme for quite a while.

“Juliet, I _can’t_.”

“Tybalt, you’ll be fine! Just you see, it’ll go great…don’t make that face! Look, I’ll be right there with you, okay? Everything will be fine.”

“How will you be–”

“Follow me.”

By now almost resigned to his fate (when Juliet was convinced she was right, nothing would dissuade her, and for some reason she was convinced that Tybalt belonged in a music competition) Tybalt followed Juliet up the stairs and, strangely enough, into his bedroom.

Tybalt could only watch as his cousin searched through his closet and removed a leather jacket, one of his scarves, and a red shirt. Unfortunately, she also found his guitar and spent almost a minute cooing over how 'cute’ it was. (It was _not_ his fault that the previous owner had left several Hello Kitty decals on it. He would definitely have removed them if he wasn’t worried about hurting the instrument. Definitely.)

“Hang on, be right back,” Juliet declared before dashing across the hall to her own room.

Once she was gone, Tybalt sat down on his bed with a sigh. He did want to enter the music competition, now that he considered it, but he couldn’t! It wouldn’t be seemly for the warrior of the Capulets to be seen engaging in such frivolity.

But if Juliet wanted something, Juliet tended to get it, especially if Tybalt was the one she asked it of. And since she was doing all of this just to help him out, to deny her would be doubly harsh in this situation.

“Okay, I’m back!” Juliet shouted, throwing open the door of Tybalt’s room.

Tybalt looked up, trying to think of a new argument that would get him out of this without making him look ungrateful, but quickly lost all control of his powers of speech.

The figure standing before him was recognizable as Juliet, if he thought about it, but anyone else would be hard pressed to discern the Capulet heiress in the apparent teenage boy leaning against the doorjamb.

Juliet was wearing Tybalt’s shirt and leather jacket with her own skinny jeans and a pair of Converse sneakers. A short, fluffy blond wig covered her own hair, and atop that was a baseball cap with a large Verona Tigers logo. Tybalt’s scarf, draped loosely around her neck, and a pair of absolutely massive sunglasses completed the look.

“Meet JC. What do you think?”

Tybalt tried to think of something to say but only managed a slight choking sound. Juliet’s own mother wouldn’t recognize her now!

“See? Come on, this is going to be awesome!”

In the face of a world that had clearly gone insane, Tybalt gave up. “Okay. I’m in.”


	2. Chapter 2

Mercutio sprinted through the open door of the Montague family garage, waving an envelope in one hand. “Guys guys we got a letter!” he shouted, jumping up to perch on the trunk of Romeo’s car.

“What does it say?” Romeo asked, stepping out from behind his keyboard as Benvolio set down his electric bass.

“I have no idea, I thought this should be, like, a joint ceremony thing.”

Benvolio snatched the envelope out of Mercutio’s hand and began tearing it open. “You better not have made us all excited over nothing,” he scolded.

Mercutio laughed. “What, we’re a cinch to get in! The Montakrew is awesome...well, except for Romeo.”

“Hey!”

“I mean, let’s face it, you are too disgustingly adorable to be in a metal band.”

Romeo pouted.

“...and that’s only making it worse.”

“Cut it out, Merc, unless you want this to turn into a metal _solo act,_ ” Benvolio said warningly. “Remember it’s out of the kindness of Romeo’s mom’s heart that we’re using this garage in the first place.”

Jumping off the car, Mercutio swept into an elaborate bow. “As you wish.”

Benvolio rolled his eyes at Mercutio’s antics as he pulled the letter out of the envelope and unfolded it.

“I can’t watch!” Mercutio declared melodramatically, clinging to Romeo as Benvolio began reading the letter.

Romeo patted his friend’s hair, being careful not to mess up the elaborately fluffy style Mercutio was so particular about. “What does it say, Ben?” he asked.

Benvolio took his time reading the letter, time during which Mercutio’s grip on Romeo became almost choking. “Chill, Merc, we’re in.” Benvolio said finally, holding the letter out so his cousin and friend could read the congratulatory message.

Mercutio whooped in joy and pounced on Benvolio, quickly dragging Romeo into their group hug as well. “Awesome! The Montakrew is going to make it to the big time!”

Gasping for air, Romeo wriggled out of the tight grip of the other two. “I don’t know, guys...going on TV where everyone in Verona’s going to watch? That could make the Capulets really mad.”

“Come on, Romeo, it’ll be fun,” Mercutio coaxed, ruffling Romeo’s hair. “Besides, since when did we ever care what the Capulets think? This calls for a celebration, let’s go egg their house or something.”

Benvolio shrugged. “Sounds fun. Not like there’s much else to do around here.”

“Guys…” Romeo tried again, but Mercutio and Benvolio were already through the door to the inside of the house. He sighed. “I just wanted to cover One Direction…”

 

* * *

 

“Okay, so we’ll be in dorms during the filming and they say we should pack enough clothes for twelve weeks…” Benvolio read off the letter as the Montakrew made their way through Verona’s tiny shopping and recreational district (two schools, a drive-in movie theater, one strip mall and a filling station) in order to reach the Capulet domicile on the other side of town. “Looks like they’ll send us more information later. We’ve got almost a month to get ready.”

“I’ll see if I can get my uncle to spring for new instruments,” Mercutio said, bouncing the carton of eggs he was holding. “He can definitely afford it—he bought Paris a sportscar last Christmas. Like anyone needs a sportscar in a town like this.” Mercutio and Paris were both nephews to the owner of the Escalus Corporation, which employed a large percentage of the population of Verona, and Mercutio was never reluctant to put forth accusations of favoritism when he saw Paris as having things better than he did. “Wouldn’t you like a new keyboard, Romeo?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Romeo affirmed reluctantly. “But I still don’t feel like this is a good idea. Besides, what if we win?”

“Then that just proves that the Montagues rock and the Capulets are a bunch of losers!” Mercutio exclaimed. Benvolio laughed.

“We’re not even competing against the Capulets,” Romeo pointed out.

“Not our fault they wimped out before the competition even started,” Mercutio said airily. “Besides, who would they send? _Tybalt_?”

Even Romeo had to laugh at the idea of the cold, vicious Capulet warrior singing perky boy band songs. Tybalt would probably rather die than enter a singing competition!

“Speak of the devil…” Benvolio said, pointing up the street as a vehicle turned the corner and came towards them.

The red Hummer suited Tybalt: it made sense that the large, threatening Capulet would have a large, threatening vehicle. Seeing the Montagues in his path, Tybalt accelerated slightly. Romeo hurried to get out of the street and onto the sidewalk, and Benvolio followed him, pulling Mercutio along.

“Who’s he got with him, though?” Benvolio remarked, pointing out the shorter blond boy sitting in the passenger seat of the Hummer, his face nearly covered by a huge pair of sunglasses.

“Their gardener’s kid, maybe?” Romeo suggested, remembering a blond Capulet affiliate from highschool. “What’s his name...Peter or something.”

“I don’t know who he is but he picked the wrong day to hang out with Tybalt!” Mercutio declared, popping the carton of eggs open and pulling one out as the Hummer came abreast of where the Montakrew was standing.

“Merc _NO!_ ”

Romeo grabbed Mercutio’s arm just too late. The Grade A, Large, Cage Free egg (Mrs. Montague was very particular) arced lazily through the hot summer air before depositing its sticky contents across the driver’s side window.

Tybalt’s Hummer came to a halt with a screech of brakes.

“I said this was a bad idea!” Romeo shouted in a combination of panic and triumph, trying to drag Mercutio away as his friend reached for another egg. Benvolio, luckily, now saw Romeo’s point and yanked the carton away.

Tybalt seemed to be in an equivalent conflict with his friend, as far as Romeo could see through the now-obscured window of the Hummer. After a few seconds the passenger side door opened, but it wasn’t Tybalt who climbed up on the roof of the massive vehicle holding a plastic grocery bag.

“Why don’t you try some organic, GMO-free Capulet tomatoes!” shouted the blond Capulet boy before beginning to hurl said produce at the Montakrew with both hands.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Tybalt watched from behind his egged-over window as the two Montagues and their friend fled the scene rather than stay and face Juliet’s tomato barrage. Mercutio obviously wanted to stay and fight but Benvolio was large enough to haul him away easily despite his struggles. This was lucky for Mercutio—if one of them had retaliated against Juliet, Tybalt wouldn’t have been able to hold back any longer.

Once they were out of sight, Juliet clambered back into the Hummer, tossing the nearly-empty bag of tomatoes into the back seat with the other seven still-full bags. “We’re lucky Nurse is so good at growing tomatoes,” she giggled, slamming the door and buckling her seatbelt. The Capulet garden had been completely overgrown with tomatoes for weeks, and since Tybalt’s Hummer had ample space it was being used to store the overflow.

“Why didn’t you let me handle things?” Tybalt protested. “I could have taken on all three of them.”

“Yes, but that would take way longer, especially if the police turned up like they did last time. It’s going to take us two hours to get to the music store anyway, so we have to get a move on or it’ll close.”

“But what if your mother saw?”

“Then she would probably say ‘I don’t know who you are, random blond kid, but good job for making those Montagues look stupid.’”

“But...okay.” Tybalt sighed as he turned the key in the ignition. Since Juliet had convinced him yesterday to go through with entering the competition, today she had ordered him to go with her on a trip to the nearest music supply store to purchase a better guitar. Apparently this also meant that she had to dress up as JC for some reason. Tybalt couldn’t see why that was, but then he had given up on things making any sense for a long time to come. “But we have to wash the car off first,” he said, heading for the filling station.

“Wow, you’re sooooo fussy about your car,” Juliet teased.

“The entire window is covered in egg, in case you hadn’t noticed. Mercutio had better be ready to run the next time I catch him…”

“Why did you even get a Hummer, anyway? It has, like, zero miles to the gallon.”

Tybalt smiled grimly, his hands clenching the steering wheel. “It’s in case I ever want to _crush Romeo’s pathetic little hybrid._ ”

“...I’m sorry I asked.”

 

* * *

 

Two hours and forty-five minutes later (Tybalt had to admit the Hummer was rather slow. Deadly, but slow) Tybalt parked the Hummer in the lot of the Music Emporium. “Do you see any cars you recognize?” he asked Juliet.

Juliet glanced out the back window of the Hummer. “No. Why?”

“Because if anyone we know is here, we’re leaving.”

Juliet rolled her eyes as she climbed out of the car. “Stop being so paranoid, it’s just a music store, we’re just buying a guitar.” Tybalt also climbed out but made no move to enter the store, so she finally grabbed his arm and proceeded to drag him across the parking lot. “Just get inside and find a nice guitar!” she commanded as she pushed him through the entrance of the store. “Mom’s paying and she gave me loads of money for it so get whatever you want.”

Tybalt would have continued protesting, but as soon as they were inside Juliet sprinted into the depths of the store, abandoning Tybalt near a rack of guitars. Once Tybalt had satisfied himself that there were no other customers nearby (and glared down one employee who started to approach him) he began examining the instruments.

Soon he began to regret chasing off the employee so quickly. Since Tybalt had only ever played one guitar (one that he was fairly certain had not started out high quality, either) he had no idea what he should be looking for now that he had the opportunity and budget to improve on it.

“Having trouble?”

Tybalt jumped as Juliet popped up beside him. “Where did you go?” he demanded, then saw that Juliet was holding a plastic bag with the store’s logo on it. “What’s in there?”

“Secret. Find anything yet?”

Tybalt did not want to admit to his cousin that he had spent nearly twenty minutes staring at the display of guitars and still couldn’t figure out why any of them was better than any other. “That one looks good,” he said as confidently as he could, pointing at the nearest red guitar.

“Cool.” Turning in the direction of the register, Juliet cupped both hands around her mouth. “HEY WE FOUND A GUITAR WE WANNA LOOK AT!” she shouted.

“Juliet, no!” Tybalt yelped as an employee (thankfully not the same one as earlier) hurried in their direction.

“What, you have to try it out before you buy it, right? We’re a hundred and ten miles away from Verona: I think the reputation of the Capulets is pretty safe.”

This was probably true, but Tybalt still didn’t like to take chances. Considering he was about to end up on television, however, he realized that he needed to get used to the idea of other people seeing him with his music stuff.

Once the employee had taken down the red guitar and put it in his hands, Tybalt knew he had made the right choice. It was just the right weight and size, and the strings compressed easily over the shiny gold frets.

“That’s an acoustic electric,” the employee said, “so you can plug it into an amplifier. Our amps are in that section if you want to look at them?” She pointed a few aisles over.

“Thank you! Come on, Tybalt, let’s go get you one of those. And you need, like, a case too, and a nice strap for it, and some guitar picks and a case for those to go in, and…”

 

* * *

 

Two hours later, Tybalt closed the trunk of the Hummer on an impressive pile of assorted guitar paraphernalia. He was pretty sure he didn’t need such a wide range of equipment, but it was all actually useful, so he didn’t feel too bad about being the reason for such a large purchase, especially since it seemed to make Juliet so happy.

Juliet carried his new guitar carefully (it looked gigantic compared to her small height and slight build) and placed securely in a nook of the front seat of the Hummer as they climbed in.

Once they were about halfway back to Verona, Juliet pulled her small shopping bag out from under her seat. “Once we’re back you can put these on your guitar,” she said.

“Put what on,” Tybalt said distractedly, glancing away from the road for a minute to see what Juliet had taken out of the bag. “Juliet, no!” he cried. He had been saying that a lot lately, he realized, and it had yet to be effective even once.

“I bought every Hello Kitty decal they had!” Juliet beamed, flipping through the ample pile of decals she held. “I don’t know if they’ll all fit, but at least you’ve got a lot to choose from. Oh, and I got this.” She pulled out a cherry-wood recorder and took a deep breath.

Tybalt took one hand off the wheel to cover his ear, feeling deeply grateful for the generous width of the Hummer as the recorder blast resounded through the vehicle. “What’s that for?”

“We’re a boy band, right? It’s the only instrument I know how to play.”

‘Play’ was a generous description, Tybalt thought as he remembered Juliet’s elementary school graduation performance. Still, it wasn’t as if he could actually say that to her.

“We’re all set! Now we just have to wait for the show to start!” Juliet announced. “Hey wait, what are we going to call ourselves?”

“This was your idea, you figure it out.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

“Are we there yet?”

“Wow, Merc, cliche much?” Benvolio teased from the passenger seat, barely looking up from the map he was reading. “We need this exit to get on the next freeway, Romeo.”

“Romeo’s stupid car is cramping my style,” Mercutio whined. The Montakrew’s combined luggage, plus Romeo’s new keyboard, had completely filled the the trunk of the sporty sky-blue hybrid, so Mercutio was crammed in the back seat with all of his and Benvolio’s guitar and bass equipment. “Why did you have to get such a tiny car, Romeo?”

“I’m just trying to be environmentally conscious,” Romeo replied, determined to defend his vehicle’s honor.

“How about you try being conscious of _my_ environment?” Mercutio retorted. “If one of these amps falls over I’m probably going to die.”

“Hey, you know how we could get some more space in the back?” Benvolio remarked.

“...how?”

“By throwing you out on the side of the freeway and letting you walk two states to the studio.”

“Very funny.”

“Yeah, I thought so,” Romeo said. Usually he was more tolerant of Mercutio’s mouthiness, but it was hard to put up with much when he was already working hard driving on the crowded highway. “Look at it this way, Tybalt spends more on gas for that Hummer of his in an hour than we will this whole trip.”

“But at least he has legroom,” Mercutio complained, kicking the back of Romeo’s seat to prove his point.

* * *

“There’s a Starbucks in the next town, we need to stop there.”

“Indeed, Juliet without her coffee is a terror to behold,” Tybalt said, looking for an exit.

“I’ll show you terrifying,” Juliet replied, glaring at him from the passenger seat, but only succeeded in looking adorable with her tiny frown below oversized sunglasses.

That morning, they had packed up the Hummer at 6 to set out for the large city two states away where filming would be held. Juliet had obtained permission to accompany Tybalt, but had not informed her parents exactly why shy wanted that permission. The Capulets would figure it out quickly once the show started airing, but twelve weeks should be enough time for them to get over it, right?

The Hummer was filled with suitcases as well as all of Tybalt’s new guitar equipment. The last of the Capulet tomato crop had finally been disposed of the day before they left—Tybalt had sneaked over to the Montague house and thrown six bags over their fence. Hopefully that would make them behave themselves while he was gone. He was actually glad Juliet was with him, since he would have been worried about her without him around to protect her from the Montagues.

The Starbucks was conveniently placed directly off the freeway. Tybalt pulled into the parking lot and stopped.

“This isn’t going to fit through the drivethrough, is it.”

* * *

“I’m huuuuuungry.”

“And just like I said the last six times, I’ve got a whole cooler full of sandwiches if you want one,” Benvolio said, holding up the cooler as proof. “You’re only bringing this on yourself, Merc.”

“I don’t want those sandwiches, they have _Capulet tomatoes_ in them.”

“They’re organic and GMO-free,” Romeo pointed out.

“But Tybalt probably touched them! And one of them ruined my favorite shirt last month! Where is your Montague clan loyalty, Romeo?”

“What’s our motto again, Ben?” Romeo glanced over at his cousin with a smirk, and they both continued in unison. “ _Clan Loyalty Ends Where Free Food Begins!_ ”

“Well, _somebody_ has to uphold the pride of the Montagues here, and I’m not eating any Capulet-contaminated tomatoes.”

“Dude, you’re not even a Montague.”

“Just give up and start looking for a McDonalds, Ben,” Romeo sighed. “Happy now, Merc?”

* * *

“We have a reservation _here?_ ” Tybalt stared up at the elegant Victorian-style hotel Juliet had directed him to.

“Dad got us a business discount,” Juliet explained. “Besides, you need to rest up for your big day tomorrow!”

After they checked in, Juliet decided to give up on her JC costume for the evening once she saw the massive pool in the hotel courtyard. Tybalt refused her invitation to join in: he did not like getting wet and he didn’t care if Mercutio said that proved he was secretly a cat. Instead, he chose to take advantage of the dinner buffet. Keeping control of the massive Hummer all day had been hard work.

By the time he was done eating, Juliet was still swimming, so Tybalt headed up to their suite to get some private practice in. Sitting down on the bed of his room, he opened his guitar case, then sighed as the pile of Hello Kitty decals spilled out. So far he had refused to put any of them on...but if he was already going to make a spectacle of himself to make Juliet happy, he might as well go all out.

* * *

“We remembered the tent, right? Merc, you were on tent duty, please tell me you remembered the tent.”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” Mercutio yanked at the bag holding the tent, which had been shoved in the backseat with him, and yelped as a guitar case promptly topped over on him. “Little help, Ben?”

Romeo looked at the bag with concern once it and Mercutio were both extracted from the car. “Is that going to be big enough to fit all three of us?”

“It’s going to fit all three of us better than your car, that’s for sure.”

“You walked right into that one, Romeo,” Benvolio laughed. “I’ll go look for some firewood.” They had purchased some hot dogs before reaching the campground (as well as marshmallows, at Mercutio’s insistence), but with no room in the hybrid to transport fuel they were currently without a means of cooking them.

“Don’t get lost!” Romeo called after his cousin, who waved back in response. “Need help with the tent, Merc?”

“Sure.” Mercutio inverted the bag, dumping the contents out in the middle of the campsite. “Last time I used this thing I was with Paris and he probably lost half the stakes. I don’t know how he manages to look like the responsible one…”

* * *

“Good night, Tybalt...did you use my decals finally?”

“GoodnightJuliet,” Tybalt replied quickly, shutting the guitar case before his cousin could get a closer look.

* * *

“See, it does fit us better than your car!”

“Shut up if you don’t want to sleep outside,” Romeo retorted.

“And a very good night to you too, Romeo.”

“‘Night Merc. ‘Night Romeo,” Ben said sleepily.

“Goodnight,” Romeo murmured, although he was too deep in thought to sleep yet.

He couldn’t help worrying about the show, even though the other two members of the Montakrew were insistent that everything would be fine. But they would be out of Verona after all, so it wouldn’t be too hard to keep them out of trouble without Tybalt around. Right?


	5. Chapter 5

“Wake up, Juliet, we’re there,” Tybalt announced, reaching over to wake up his cousin (he had to stretch to make it across the width of the Hummer) as he pulled into the studio’s parking lot.

“Wasn’ asleeeep,” mumbled Juliet, proving exactly the opposite of what she was trying to say. “Now what?”

“You’re in charge, you tell me,” Tybalt replied, looking for an empty parking spot. Suddenly he froze, staring.

“Oh no, please don’t tell me you smell a Montague or anything,” Juliet grumbled. “We’re seven hundred miles away, I promise you there are _no_ Montagues.”

“Then why is Romeo’s stupid hybrid parked there?” Tybalt pointed.

“Yeah, like they only sold one of that model in the entire country.”

“Romeo’s the only person dumb enough to buy one.”

Juliet sighed. “You’re hopeless sometimes. Just park, okay, we need to check in.”

* * *

Mercutio froze, and Romeo had to pull him along or they would have blocked up the entire check in line. “What’s wrong?” Romeo asked.

“I just heard a Hummer pull up.”

Benvolio shook his head. “Merc, Tybalt is not the only person in this country to own a Hummer. Besides, _what_ would Tybalt be doing here anyway?”

“Lurking somewhere to ambush us with Capulet tomatoes.”

“Dude, shut up about the tomatoes already! They were good tomatoes, you’re just jealous you were stuck eating McDonalds chicken nuggets.”

Mercutio shoved Benvolio, who retaliated, and soon Romeo found himself trying to split them up. “Guys, stop it, stop it!” he urged, placing himself in from of Mercutio and doing his best to hold Benvolio back.

“No way, let me at him!” Mercutio protested, wrapping his arms around Romeo and lifting him out of the way.

Romeo hated being the smallest of his group of friends sometimes. “Merc, stooooop,” he pleaded, grabbing the back of Mercutio’s hoodie and digging his heels in to hold him back. “Do you want to get us kicked out before it even starts?”

“Fine, if it’ll make you happy,” Mercutio grumbled, stepping away from Benvolio and folding his arms petulantly.

* * *

Some sort of disturbance was slowing the check in line when Tybalt and Juliet walked up, but once it was resolved things moved quickly. Soon Tybalt and Juliet found themselves sitting on a bench, signing an impressive pile of forms, contracts, and waivers.

“I’m putting ‘Jules Capulet’, do you think that’s close enough for me not to get arrested for fraud?” Juliet asked, holding up her clipboard so Tybalt could see her signature. Instead of her usual elegant cursive that Nurse had taught her so painstakingly, she was using an awkward, loopy scrawl.

“Don’t worry, if anyone tries to arrest you I’ll stop them,” Tybalt said, although he glanced around to check for cameras all the same. There had been a few camera crews filming arrivals in the parking lot, but apparently check in and legal forms were too dull to present to the viewing public.

“Thanks, that makes me feel safe,” Juliet said. “Although I don’t think the Hummer is maneuverable enough to use for a getaway car.”

Tybalt ignored this slight to his vehicle. “Where to after this?”

Juliet looked at the schedule they had been given. “Let’s see...after we hand these in they’re going to have half of us film intros backstage while the other half practices, then we switch, then there’s an hour break for dinner, then they’re filming our first performances.”

“What, that fast?” It had taken several minutes before Tybalt was even comfortable standing in the parking lot of the studio, let alone performing inside it!

* * *

“Wow, this is way better than a garage!” Benvolio exclaimed, setting down his bass and looking around the expansive practice room that the Montakrew had been ushered into. “No offense, Romeo.”

“No, it’s nice,” Romeo agreed as he struggled to unfold the stand to his keyboard.

Benvolio quickly stepped in to help as Mercutio started plugging in his guitar. “We’ve got about three hours to practice while everyone else is filming their intros. What are we going to perform tonight?” he asked once the keyboard had been set up to Romeo’s satisfaction.

“One Direction?” Romeo said hopefully.

Mercutio sighed. Setting his guitar down, he stepped over and put a hand on Romeo’s shoulder. “Romeo,” he said in a serious tone, “Romeo, kiddo, we’ve had this talk before. This is a metal band, and metal bands just don’t _do_ One Direction songs.”

“Not even one?”

“Not even one. I think we should do _Stand My Ground,_ Within Temptation went over well that one time at prom.”

“ _Well?_ ” Benvolio repeated incredulously. “Rosaline Capulet threw her soccer cleats at Romeo!”

“Rosaline…” Romeo murmured, smiling dreamily.

“I can’t believe you started going out with her after that!” Mercutio exploded. “We had to drive you fifty miles to the hospital! You got ten stitches! In your _face_! How did that ever seem like the rational thing to do!”

“Merc, you’re really not one to lecture people about being rational,” Benvolio cut in. “Let’s just calm down and figure out a song, okay?”

* * *

Resignation, Tybalt had discovered, was one of the most freeing mindsets he had ever experienced. He was going to make a fool of himself—so what? He couldn’t do anything about it now, so he might as well have fun.

And, oddly enough, he was having fun. This was not an activity he usually engaged in, so he wasn’t quite sure how to react.

Currently, he and Juliet were filming their into with the hosts of the program, a bubbly pair of twin singers named Viola and Sebastian. The two of them were confusingly alike: they were wearing matching suits and Tybalt had to concentrate very hard to tell them apart when they weren’t talking.

There were cameras and film crew all around, but Tybalt did his best to ignore them and look ‘natural’ or whatever twisted version of nature the producers desired. While he and Juliet were wearing their own clothes, they had been slathered with makeup before being allowed near the cameras.

“So what’s your group called?” Sebastian asked.

Now that he was resigned to everything, Tybalt didn’t even feel self-conscious answering this question. “Tybalt—”

“—and the Capulets!” Juliet finished, bouncing up and grabbing onto Tybalt so that she would be in the frame. (The difference between their heights had been causing no end of difficulties for the cameramen.)

Viola blinked and exchanged glances with Sebastian. “I...I only see one ‘and the,’” she pointed out.

“That’s because Capulets are, like, just better, okay?” Juliet declared. Tybalt agreed with the sentiment although perhaps not the situation in which it had been expressed.

“Okay.” Viola seemed to be biting back a laugh. “Okay, we’ll go with that.”

Once the cameras were turned off, Tybalt and Juliet (or rather, Tybalt and the Capulets) were ushered away to practice rooms with the rest of their group of contestants, in order to prepare for the performance that now was in only a few hours.


	6. Chapter 6

“Romeo, get it together, we need to get ready to go on stage.”

Romeo moaned as Benvolio tried to get his attention, slumping over and burying his face in the couch cushions. “Why do we have to do this?” he protested, although it was muffled by the suede couch. Now that the moment of truth was approaching, he was picturing every possible thing that could go wrong and the tension was paralyzing.

“Because we’re awesome!” Mercutio exclaimed. “Come on, we’re up after Dogs of War.”

The batch of contestants waiting in this greenroom had been watching the previous performances on a wide-screen TV occupying one end of the room. Dogs of War, a punk trio the Montakrew had become acquainted with during dinner, had just begun their performance. Romeo roused himself enough to look at the screen. “Wow, they’re pretty good.”

“Yes, and we have to be better than them, so get a grip,” Benvolio said, grabbing Romeo’s arm and pulling him to his feet.

“Fine…” Romeo sighed.

“We’ll do great,” Mercutio said encouragingly, calming himself down somewhat and putting an arm around Romeo’s shoulder. “It’ll be like...okay, not like the time we played the prom. How about when we went busking in Mantua? That went fine, right?”

“I got food poisoning,” Romeo reminded him.

Mercutio facepalmed. “You’re hopeless sometimes. Just get going, okay?”

With both Mercutio and Benvolio combining their efforts, Romeo had no choice but to accompany them to the wings where the Montakrew would prepare to perform.

* * *

“Dogs of War is pretty good,” Juliet remarked, pointing at the wide-screen TV that was the focal point of their greenroom. “We’re better though.”

“Sure,” Tybalt responded, trying to remain calm as he tuned his guitar yet again.

“Want some water?” Juliet asked, kicking her feet back and forth as she perched on the edge of her folding chair.

“Sure.”

Juliet bounced up and returned a few moments later with two bottles of water from the snack table on one side of the greenroom. “Here you go.”

Tybalt set his guitar aside and opened his bottle as Dogs of War left the stage amidst rousing applause.

Next to appear on the screen was Viola (or possibly Sebastian; Tybalt still couldn’t tell them apart). “And now: the Montakrew!”

Water flew all over the greenroom as Tybalt choked. Juliet completely lost her grip on her bottle, and it sailed several feet before striking the lead singer of the Rude Mechanicals, an engineering school _a cappella_ group.

“Hey!” he shouted, turning towards Tybalt and Juliet, but immediately cut off whatever protest he might have been planning when he saw Tybalt’s furious glare.

“What do you know, there really were Montagues,” Juliet whispered once she had recovered from her shock.

Tybalt looked at his Hello Kitty decal-covered guitar. “I can’t do this.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not going on. Not like _this!_ Not in front of the Montagues!”

Juliet huffed in frustration. “So you’re just going to wimp out and let the Montagues _win?_ What happened to the great hero of the Capulets?”

She had a point. Acceding superiority to the Montagues in anything was something Tybalt could never bring himself to do, even if it meant singing Disney songs with his kid cousin in front of hundreds of people while playing a Hello Kitty-themed guitar. “You’re right. Let’s _crush_ them.”

“Yeah!” Juliet whooped, holding out one clenched fist. “Capulets Rule!”

Tybalt rolled his eyes but joined her in the fist-bump.

* * *

Despite his initial reluctance, once the performance started Romeo had to admit that the Montakrew did very well. There were no shoes thrown, the audience (and especially the judges) seemed pleased, and all three of them sang decently despite their road trip to the studio over the past two days.

Romeo gave the music his all, even if it wasn’t his favorite style, and as his last high note ended the auditorium erupted into applause.

The producers were determined to keep the show running on schedule, however, and after only a few moments the Montakrew was being ushered offstage as Sebastian (Romeo was fairly certain it was Sebastian, but he still mixed him and Viola up half the time) entered to announce the following performers.

“Next up is Tybalt and the Capulets!”

Romeo fell off the stage.

Benvolio reached out to catch him but was too late, and a moment later he had his hands full enough trying to keep Mercutio under control. “You okay, Romeo?” he called, struggling to keep Mercutio in an armlock.

“Owwwww...yeah. Don’t think I’ll need stitches this time.”

“I _told_ you I heard a Hummer!” Mercutio shouted, shaking a fist at Tybalt and his friend as they entered from the opposite side of the stage. “I _told_ you!”

“Merc, calm down!” Benvolio begged, hauling his friend towards the wings as Romeo scrambled back up onto the stage, looking slightly dazed.

“CAPULETS GO HOME!” Mercutio shouted as he was finally dragged backstage. “AND TAKE YOUR STUPID TOMATOES WITH YOU!”

* * *

It was rather amusing to see Romeo, Mercutio, and Benvolio make utter idiots of themselves from pure surprise as Tybalt and Juliet entered. Still, once Tybalt reached the microphones set up for them in center stage and realized what he was about to do, namely _sing in front of hundreds of people and the entire television audience,_ he froze.

Sebastian said something incomprehensible, and Juliet replied equally incomprehensibly as Tybalt stared blankly into the bright lights flooding down on him.

“Ow!” he yelped as Juliet poked him in the side.

“Let’s just do this, okay?” Juliet whispered. “And, like, try to smile or something, we don’t want to scare the nice people at home.”

Tybalt did his best to follow this advice. “Okay,” he whispered back before preparing the first chord.

_“From the day we arrive on the planet_   
_And blinking, step into the sun_   
_There's more to be seen than can ever be seen_   
_More to do than can ever be done…”_

* * *

The Montakrew (or rather, Mercutio with Benvolio and Romeo chasing him) sneaked into the audience in order to watch Tybalt’s performance.

“What is he doing here. _What is he doing here?_ ” Benvolio had been too occupied with holding back Mercutio to really process things so far, and he was a bit in shock.

“Of course the Prince of Cats picks a song from _The Lion King!_ ” Mercutio remarked in a voice that was meant to carry.

Romeo punched him in the shoulder. “Merc, shut up!”

“And he’s actually good, it’s not fair!”

_“...It's the Circle of Life_   
_And it moves us all...”_

“What is Tybalt Capulet doing here.”

“Ben, that’s not helping.”

“I can’t take this. Romeo, gimme one of your shoes.”

Romeo kicked as Mercutio tried to untie one of his teal combat boots. “Merc, stoooooop, do you want to get disqualified? That’ll just let them win!”

Mercutio groaned. “You’re right. We’ll have to destroy them the hard way.”

_“...In the Circle_   
_The Circle of Life!”_

 


	7. Backstage Interlude

After the first performance was over and the contestants were being bussed to the dorms where they would stay during filming, one of the the producers of _Boy Band Starrz_ held a meeting backstage with the judges and hosts.

“Most of the lineup seems surprisingly good,” remarked Orsino, looking over his notes. Despite being Viola’s husband and manager, he had not gained this position through nepotism and was handling everything seriously. “I mean, they’re obviously inexperienced but almost all of them are at least promising.”

“But, like, what was up with those two groups at the end?” said Hamlet, lead singer of British alternative rock band Ghosts of Elsinore (his position on the judging panel had ensured a large female viewership). “It looked like they were going to get in a fight on stage...and something about tomatoes and a Hummer? So weird.”

“It’s worse than some of the drama we had in Illyria,” Sebastian agreed. “When Viola and I started switching places as lead singer the other members took sides but it never got that bad.”

“I don’t think we need such conflict on our stage,” stated Titania, straightening her glimmering fairy wings. She had insisted on wearing them during filming, saying they were an ‘essential part of her image’ as lead singer of Rennaissance girl-group Faerie Queenes. “It puts my aura out of balance.”

“But they were so cute, though!” Viola protested. “Romeo from the Montakrew is the most adorable metal singer I’ve ever seen, and Tybalt’s friend JC is just _such_ a personality.”

“I figured out what their problem is,” Brutus announced, the first time he had spoken up during the meeting. The lyricist for Cassius and the Conspirators had chosen to actually research the people involved rather than gossip about the on-stage events. Holding up his tablet, he pointed out the news article he had brought up. “Both of them come from the same small town in the Northwest, and their families have been feuding over control of the town for decades.”

“Has it gotten violent?” asked Orsino, concerned.

Brutus scrolled down. “Yes, but less so recently, at least according to this. Tybalt’s father is in jail for a feud-related incident…Benvolio’s parents died in a car crash that is also rumored to be feud-related. But the last time anything went to court was more than five years ago.”

Titania shrugged, making even that small gesture seem regal. “Just ship one of them home. Then there’s nothing to fight over.”

“No, then whoever stays will look like the favourite and they’ll _definitely_ fight over that,” Hamlet pointed out. “I know how this works; Fortinbras is still furious that he got sacked instead of Laertes. You’d have to get rid of both of them for there to be any improvement.”

The producer stood up, signalling the end of the meeting. “Thank you all for your input,” he said. “We’ll do our best to make sure things go smoothly on- and off-camera.”

Once everyone else had left the room, the producer took out his phone and dialed the dorm manager. “This is Iago," he said once the call had gone through. "I want you to make some changes to the room assignments...this is about to become the most _exciting_ season we’ve ever filmed.”

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

Romeo yawned, curling up against Benvolio as the bus they were in made its way to the production company dorms. Wisely, the staff had loaded Tybalt and the Capulets into the other bus, so Romeo didn’t have to worry about another confrontation until they arrived. It had been dark by the time the performances were finished, and after that plus tumbling several feet from the edge of the stage Romeo was exhausted. Once they reached the dorms Mercutio was sure to flip out again, so Romeo would have to get his rest while he could.

Benvolio patted Romeo’s shoulder as his younger cousin sighed drowsily. “What are you up to, Merc?” he asked Mercutio, who was sitting across the aisle staring intently at his phone.

“Posting on twitter: ‘Tybalt Capulet has a Hello Kitty guitar, pass it on.’ And I even took a picture, see?”

The image was blurry but both Tybalt and the Hello Kitty decals on his guitar were recognizable. That was the thing Benvolio had the most trouble comprehending—Tybalt singing was very strange but not entirely impossible; Tybalt entering the music competition was also marginally within the bounds of reason; but Tybalt adorning his guitar with Hello Kitty decals? If he hadn’t seen it himself he would have laughed at anyone who told him, and possibly recommended they see a therapist. “Merc, you can’t post that!” Benvolio said sharply.

“What, why not? The Capulets are gonna freak, it’ll be hilarious!”

“Do you not remember all those confidentiality forms we signed this morning? You could get sued!”

Mercutio sighed. “Fine,” he huffed. “But I’m keeping the picture. And I’m going to make him _pay_ for trying to show us up tonight, him and that stupid tomato-throwing friend of his.”

“Come on, Merc, can’t you give it a rest for a while? He’s got as much of a right to enter the contest as any—”

 _“No he hasn’t!”_ Mercutio snapped. Romeo stirred in his sleep and Mercutio continued more quietly when Benvolio glared at him. “This was supposed to be our big chance. Ours! How dare the Capulets try and take it away from us? I thought Queen Mab was on our side, but now…”

Benvolio tuned Mercutio out for a few minutes as his friend babbled on about fairies and fate and fortune. This sort of talk had resulted in Mercutio being investigated several times at high school for possession of recreational substances, but as far as Benvolio knew (and he knew Mercutio better than anyone else did except possibly his brother Valentine) Mercutio didn’t use anything—that was just the way his head worked.

“Mercutio!” Benvolio interrupted once he thought it had gone on long enough. “Listen to me.”

Mercutio slumped down in his seat: clearly he knew that when Benvolio used his full first name a lecture was coming. “Whaaaaat,” he whined.

“You need to get a hold of yourself, okay? You know what always happens—whenever you start something Romeo’s the one who gets hurt! Just keep it cool while they’re filming. You can make it that long, right?”

“Romeo doesn’t always—”

“Yeah, he does!” Benvolio hissed, tightening his hold on Romeo as the bus made a sharp turn. “Remember the time at fourth-grade summer camp when he nearly drowned? Or when you took him joyriding on Paris’ Vespa and Mrs. Capulet ran you off the road? Or that time on Halloween when—”

“Okay, okay! I get the picture, _‘Mom,’_ ” Mercutio grumbled. “If you’re that upset about it I’ll do my best—as long as we don’t see them too often.”

“I’m sure we won’t,” Benvolio said with a confident smile. “They’d be stupid to put us next to each other or anything.”

* * *

The bus Tybalt and Juliet were in was delayed for almost an hour due to mechanical difficulties, and by the time it finally arrived at the dorms Juliet was fast asleep, leaning against the window with her huge sunglasses shoved into a lopsided position. In her costume as JC she looked, if possible, even more adorable asleep than awake.

Tybalt shook her awake gently as the Rude Mechanicals walked past their seat to get out of the bus. Juliet pouted and pushed him away before sitting up, rubbing her eyes under the sunglasses.

“You can go back to sleep as soon as we get to our room,” Tybalt promised. “They already sent our luggage over during the performance.”

“‘kay,” Juliet mumbled sleepily.

As they descended the steps to get out of the bus, Juliet stumbled and would have fallen if Tybalt, who had reached the ground first, had not caught her and deposited her safely on the asphalt. “Maybe you should take those off,” he said, playfully flicking her sunglasses. “It’s dark enough without them.”

“No!” Juliet insisted. “I need them to stay in character.”

Tybalt shook his head at her stubbornness but didn’t press the issue, although he kept alert and ready to catch her in case she tripped again.

As Tybalt and Juliet exited the bus, a harried-looking staffer ran up to them with a clipboard. “Tybalt and the Capulets, right?” she asked, looking at her list.

“Yeah, that’s us!” Juliet chirped.

The staffer flipped pages and made a few checkmarks, then took out one sheet and handed it to Tybalt. “Okay, you’re gonna be in suite H-5, that’s all the way to the left on the—”

Before she could finish her instructions, another staffer ran up, waving for her to stop. “Hold on a minute, change of plans,” the newcomer said as she listened to the phone she held to her ear. “This room,” she said, snatching away the sheet of paper Tybalt held and scribbling some changes on it.

The first staffer glanced at what had been written. “R-3? But that’s—”

“Look, Iago’s orders, okay? I gotta go now, Hamlet’s being a diva again…” She sprinted off as quickly as she had arrived, leaving the other staffer staring bewilderedly at the sheet of paper in her hand.

The staffer sighed. “Okay, so _now_ you’re in suite R-3, which is on the second floor, all the way to the right from the stairs. It might take a little while to make sure your luggage gets there from the other suite, but we’ll make sure it happens as soon as possible.”

Tybalt nodded in understanding before escorting Juliet towards the building. The last thing he needed was to lose his cousin in the dark when he knew the Montakrews were wandering about somewhere around.

The dorms were brightly lit and freshly painted in the trendiest colors of the season (not that Tybalt would know that from reading Nurse’s interior decorating magazines or anything) and Tybalt and Juliet had to wave to a camera crew as they made their way through the lobby. There were no cameras immediately evident in the actual corridors of the dorm, but Tybalt guessed there must be hidden cameras somewhere and kept an eye out for them. They would have to exercise some caution or it would be discovered that Tybalt and the Capulets was not _technically_ a ‘boy band’ at all.

“Here’s R-3,” Tybalt said, using the key he had been given in the lobby to open their suite. It looked perfectly normal; he couldn’t see what all the fuss over the change had been.

There was a large living room with a keyboard in one corner, as well as a couch and television with an expansive coffee table in between since there was no dining room or kitchen, only a microwave and minifridge. To one side were doors to two small bedrooms and a bathroom, and at the far end of the suite was a large plate-glass window.

“Sweet, a balcony!” Juliet exclaimed, sprinting towards the window and throwing it open. Tybalt followed her. “This is awesome,” Juliet said, leaning on the railing. “I don’t see why that one girl looked so worried about it, this room is perfect! And we’re right on the end so we only have one neighbor,” she added, pointing to the balcony next to theirs.

At that moment, the door leading to that balcony opened. “Ben, look, a balcony!” exclaimed a very familiar voice, as Romeo Montague stepped out.

Tybalt and Juliet looked at each other in shock in the few seconds before Romeo looked their way.

“That’s—” gasped Juliet.

“It is,” growled Tybalt, realizing immediately what had happened, and that it must have been intentional.

“Is there something in the minifridge we could throw at him?”

By this point, Romeo had noticed the whispering, glanced over to the other balcony, and paled. “Um, Ben?” he called quietly, backing away from the railing.

Benvolio Montague peeked out. “Oh. Oh _no_.”

“What, what’s wrong?” called Mercutio from inside. “Let me see!”

“MERC NO!” Romeo and Benvolio shouted in unison, but were unable to prevent the third member of their trio of idiots from barging onto the balcony and seeing their new neighbors.

Mercutio immediately set off on an angry rant about stalkers and Hummers and evil tomatoes. Tybalt mostly tuned it out, but stayed where he was in order to make it clear that he would not be intimidated.

Juliet ducked inside after a few seconds, returning a short time later with a plastic spoon and a handful of ketchup packets. “Look what I found in the minifridge!” she beamed, using the plastic spoon as a catapult to launch one of the ketchup packets in Mercutio’s direction. “Eat this, Montague scum!”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The room numbers for our heroes are a reference to the history plays (about the only one you're going to get in this fic, since I'm a fail of a new Shakespeare fan who hasn't got around to reading them yet).


	9. Part 8

As soon as the ketchup packet hit Mercutio in the face, Romeo was convinced his friend was about to launch himself off the balcony—notwithstanding the fifteen-foot drop—in an attempt to confront Tybalt and the other Capulet. Romeo tried to grab him, but Mercutio easily threw him aside and had actually climbed up onto the railing by the time Benvolio caught him around the waist.

“Merc, calm down!” Romeo begged as Benvolio pulled Mercutio back towards the door leading into the dorm.

“No!” Mercutio shouted, struggling in Benvolio’s hold. “No, I promised! I really promised and I tried but Tybalt—the _Capulets_ —Always! Ruin! Everything!”

Tybalt snorted, folding his arms scornfully as his friend readied another ketchup packet. “Oh, come on!” Romeo cried in frustration, stepping out to block his aim at Mercutio. “We’re not even in Verona! Can’t you give it a rest for a few weeks?”

“Shut it, Romeo!” “Don’t be stupid, _Montague!”_

Mercutio and Tybalt fell silent when they realized they had spoken in unison, glaring at each other hatefully. Romeo took this opportunity to quickly help Benvolio shove Mercutio the rest of the way inside.

This left Romeo as the only person remaining on what was now apparently the Montague balcony, and Tybalt’s furious gaze fixed on him immediately. Romeo gulped—it was obvious Tybalt would love to attack him with something much more dangerous than a ketchup packet.

Romeo decided to direct his argument towards Tybalt’s yet-unnamed friend: while the smaller boy had been cheerfully entering into the feud mayhem, Romeo didn’t sense the viciousness behind it that he did from Tybalt. “Please? I mean, we’re all here because we like music and everything and fighting isn’t going to help any of us while we’re on the show. We can go back to business as usual once we’re back in Verona…”

Romeo trailed off nervously as Tybalt took a step closer to the edge of the balcony. It didn’t look like Tybalt was armed, but that wasn’t any reassurance considering Romeo had once seen Tybalt bury a pen in a whiteboard from twelve feet away. (He had been aiming for Mercutio’s face during class presentations at high school. Mercutio claimed he should have received an A for surviving, but since the content of his presentation had the Battle of Saratoga taking place in the Civil War he was sent home with a D.)

“Go back inside, JC,” Tybalt ordered his friend, without taking his eyes off Romeo.

“Whatever. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” With a brief wave, JC vanished inside. Romeo almost thought Tybalt’s posture softened a bit, but decided he must have imagined that as the door closed behind JC.

Romeo glanced inside the Montakrew’s room to see if Benvolio was anywhere near the door. He wasn’t, and from the scuffling sounds it seemed like he was trying to keep Mercutio under control in one of the bedrooms. This meant that there were no witnesses to anything happening on the balconies.

* * *

Tybalt had to admit to being somewhat impressed at Romeo’s courage in remaining on the other balcony: impressed, but annoyed, because there was _no_ way Tybalt was going to quit the field first and he really just wanted to go to bed right now.

“Do we really have to do this?” Romeo pleaded (coincidentally voicing Tybalt’s exact thoughts at that moment. “Can’t we just get along while we’re here?”

“I wasn’t the one who bribed the staff into putting us next to you,” Tybalt stated coldly, not stepping back from his position about a stride away from the railing.

“No, we didn’t do anything!” Romeo protested. “I didn’t have any idea!”

This was probably true—while Tybalt had suspected Mercutio might be behind the switch, he had looked as surprised as everyone else—but Tybalt had wanted to make sure. Now that he had the information he wanted, there was no further point to remaining in this stand-off with Romeo. Tybalt took a step and leaned threateningly over the railing. Romeo took a nervous step back, but not towards the door of his dorm room.

Tybalt bit back a sigh, wondering what it would take to chase the silly pacifist Montague heir away so he could go to bed. If worst came to worst, he had a pen in his pocket that he could utilize to great effect, but in this situation the first to resort to violence would lose—anything of that kind was sure to get them kicked off the program. Faced with a dilemma he could not use force to solve, Tybalt realised that he was somewhat at a loss.

Luckily, he did not have to wrestle with this problem for too long, as a few moments later Benvolio’s shout could be heard through the still-open balcony door. “Romeo! Come give me a hand with Merc!”

“Coming, Ben!” Romeo yelled back. “See you tomorrow, I guess,” he said quickly to Tybalt before darting back inside the dorm room.

Tybalt watched Romeo close the door, lock it carefully, and draw the blinds, before heading inside his own room and proceeding to do the same thing.

* * *

There were no performances scheduled for the next day, only workshops and music lessons with the musicians working on the program, and those started late enough that all the contestants were able to sleep in.

All, that was, except for Mercutio Della Scalla, which mean that none of his roommates or neighbors could either.

Tybalt groaned and rolled over, holding his pillow over his head in an attempt to drown out the guitar riffs that Mercutio had apparently decided he needed to practice at 8:30 in the morning.

From the room next to his, Tybalt heard a loud thump as Juliet threw something (a shoe?) at the wall. “Does the Montakrew need that much practice to have a chance in this competition?” she yelled, her JC voice wavering shrilly as she struggled to remain in character just after waking. “Get a practice room or something!”

Tybalt’s determination to avoid violence slipped. Fellow contestant or not, outside Verona or not, _nobody_ woke up his baby cousin and got away with it.

“Tyyyyyyyyybbs…” Juliet whined sleepily as she appeared in the door of his room.

“Don’t call me that!” Tybalt whispered insistently. The walls were thin enough that he didn’t want to risk any of the Montakrew finding out his pet name. “Sorry those fools woke you up,” he said with a sigh,running a hand through his hair. “I’ll make them pay for it later.”

“Cool,” Juliet yawned. “I’ll go get dressed, then let’s go eat.”

* * *

“I can’t believe we had to hide in here until they left.”

“Well, if you hadn’t had the _absolutely brilliant_ idea of blasting your guitar right next to their rooms, we wouldn’t have had this problem, Merc,” Benvolio pointed out, looking through the peephole to make sure that Tybalt and JC had really departed and were not merely lying in wait for the Montakrew.

“Besides, do you really want to run into Tybalt before he’s had his morning coffee?” Romeo said. “He’s angry enough all the time as it is.”

Mercutio huffed and flopped down on the couch impatiently. “Do you think he puts tomato juice in it?”

“What?” Romeo was used to hearing odd things come out of his eccentric friend’s mouth, but he still wanted to make sure he had understood him correctly.

“In his coffee,” Mercutio elaborated, then yelped as Benvolio, without turning around, reached down and threw a small pillow directly into his face.

“I can’t believe you made me just picture that with my own brain,” Benvolio moaned, sounding utterly revolted. “I’m never going to be able to drink coffee again. And I _need_ it to keep up with you.”

“Is it safe to go get breakfast now?” Romeo asked. “I’m really hungry.”

“Why don’t we just make a ladder out of sheets and climb down from the balcony?” Mercutio suggested.

“Let’s save that tactic for a real emergency, when the worst that could happen is more than being late for breakfast,” Benvolio said as he undid the chain, then unlocked the door and cautiously opened it a crack. When there was no immediate sign of a Capulet ambush, he opened the door a little further and poked his head out. “Okay, it looks like the coast is clear,” he said. “But watch out, okay?”

“Food! Freedom!” Mercutio rejoiced, shoving past Benvolio and bolting down the hall before Benvolio could grab him.

"Merc, that's not..." Benvolio started to call after him, then sighed. “Well, at least you behave yourself sometimes,” he said to Romeo, who was still sitting obediently on the couch. “Come on, let’s go get something to eat before Merc eats it all or starts a food fight or something.”


	10. Part 9

After breakfast (during which Juliet barely dissuaded Tybalt from ambushing Mercutio with a plate of scrambled eggs for the grave crime of not letting her sleep in) Viola, or possibly Sebastian, came to collect Tybalt and the Capulets for their first private advising session with one of the music industry professionals on the panel of judges.

Juliet panted a little as she half-jogged beside Tybalt on the way across the street to the studio, and Tybalt shortened his stride to make it easier for her to keep up. The camera crew following them was just far enough away not to seem invasive, but Tybalt had no doubt they would be able to pick up anything that was said and therefore said nothing.

“So who’re we going to be meeting with?” Juliet asked eagerly once she had some breath to speak with.

“That’s a surprise,” Viola said with a smile (now that she had spoken Tybalt was fairly certain who was guiding them).

“Oh, joy,” Tybalt grumbled.

“I know, right? I love surprises!” Juliet said, deliberately taking the statement literally as Tybalt rolled his eyes.

* * *

Tybalt rolled his eyes harder a few minutes later as Juliet stared around in obvious delight (only slightly disguised by her huge sunglasses) at the disgustingly pink and glitzy sitting room Viola led them into. The camera crew followed, and Tybalt couldn’t help glaring at them in annoyance. Both of the feuding families of Verona were highly focused on their privacy, so he still wasn’t used to willingly permitting himself to be filmed.

“Your Mentor this week is going to be Titania!” Viola declared, as if it wasn’t already obvious from the setting. “Since your group is more acoustic we decided she would suit your needs very well. She should be here in just a few moments: she doesn’t know you’re going to be her first trainees so make sure you give her a great welcome, okay?”

“Sure thing!” Juliet chirped, perching eagerly on the edge of the pink lace-covered couch.

Tybalt slouched down on it next to her, folding his arms to show his determination not to be drawn into this nonsense. Juliet frowned at him, but with her sunglasses on whatever Look she was trying to fix him with wasn’t effective.

“Hey!” Tybalt wasn’t able to hold back his surprised cry as Juliet poked him in the side. “J.C., no!”

Even with the pseudonym, the word wasn’t any more effective. “Come on Tybb...alt,” Juliet finished quickly as Tybalt stared at her in betrayed horror, realizing she was about to broadcast his childhood pet name to the entire country (and worse, the Montagues). “Sit up! We have to greet Titania!”

Tybalt couldn’t tell whether she was really buying into all this packaged, commercialised drama or whether she was astute enough to figure out exactly what they should be doing to endear themselves to the producers as much as possible. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to go along with her. “Whatever,” he shrugged, sitting up and going so far as to look in the direction of the door. He was still mostly focused on the events of last night, and their dorm neighbors.

Romeo, silly pacifist that he was, could be relied on not to start something, although if something was started he might make it much worse in an attempt to stop it. Benvolio was a bit harder to make an estimate of, but Tybalt was fairly certain he would not be a threat unless something happened to Romeo, in which case Tybalt knew from experience he would retaliate viciously.

If one of the Montakrew was going to make trouble for Tybalt and Juliet, it would be Mercutio, and Mercutio could be worryingly imaginative when he really decided to participate in the feud. Tybalt wondered if he could manage a preemptive strike without it being found out by the producers: nothing really bad, not right away, just enough that Mercutio got the idea and quit the competition. Mercutio wasn’t even a Montague—he didn’t have any business interfering.

Tybalt was busy considering whether he could manage a small car accident if all he had to work with was a Hummer when the door opened and Titania swept in.

* * *

However poor Tybalt’s opinion was of Titania’s interior decorating aesthetic (and it was very poor, although some of it was no doubt the fault of the producers), he had to admit that Titania herself was an impressive presence. He had barely looked at any of the judges during their performance on opening night, so all he had to go by before now were a few promotional images.

Titania was of statuesque height—without heels she would have been barely shorter than Tybalt, and with them she could have looked down on him easily if he had been standing. Her red-brown hair cascaded down her back past her sparkling fairy wings, and while her pseudo-medieval gown had looked silly in the photographs, in person it gave her a majestic, ethereal presence.

“Titania! Hi! This is Tybalt and the Capulets, they’re going to be your first students this season,” Viola bubbled quickly, glancing worriedly in Tybalt’s direction as she did so.

“Hiiiiiii…” Juliet sighed, her eyes going wide behind her huge sunglasses although Tybalt was the only one who could see that.

As the camera shifted off Viola to focus on Titania, Viola stared at Tybalt and raised her eyebrows meaningfully. Tybalt wasn’t about to take orders from anyone around besides Juliet, but he did shrug in what he thought was a polite and welcoming fashion.

“Well.” Titania didn’t sound very happy with her surprise: Tybalt tried to remember what her reaction to the incident yesterday had been, but couldn’t come up with anything. “Good morning.” She also stared at Tybalt, in a far more disapproving manner than Viola had. “For some, I suppose.”

“I love your music!” Juliet exclaimed admiringly, leaning forward to block Titania’s glare from reaching Tybalt (not that he cared, he had experienced much worse in Verona). “I looked it all up before the filming started. Can you sign my limited edition single of _Briar Rose?_ ”

Titania blinked in surprise, then smiled, seeming somewhat mollified. “Of course,” she said. “Viola, my dear, have you a pen?”

Viola handed over a permanent marker from the inner pocket of her coat, and Juliet beamed as Titania signed the CD case she held out. “And now, if we could get started properly...what song were you thinking of performing next?”

“ _Gangnam Style._ ”

Tybalt immediately snapped back into full attention. “Ju—J.C., NO!”

“There, see? He’s listening,” Juliet giggled.

Titania didn’t look amused. “So what were you thinking of, then?”

Tybalt shrugged. Even making it to the program at all still seemed unreal to him: whether a dream or a nightmare, he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t about to let Juliet do anything that would humiliate him, but further than that he didn’t really care.

Titania frowned. “I can’t do anything to help you if you don’t have any ideas. If you want to go far in a program like this, you have to think about what you’re doing.”

Tybalt could almost see that she had a point, but he wasn’t about to sit and be lectured by someone wearing fairy wings. “Whatever.”

“I think—” Juliet began hopefully.

“What are you even doing here?” Titania snapped, ignoring Juliet’s interjection. “You don’t have the least idea what you’re doing, you fight with the other contestants, and you won’t let anyone give you advice!”

“It was J.C.’s idea,” Tybalt said, but by this point Titania was in full force and she didn’t seem to notice the statement. Viola was now sitting bolt-upright in her chair, wide-eyed as she stared nervously at the cameras surrounding them. She seemed to be considering whether coming between Titania and Tybalt would make the situation worse or better.

“You have the most unbalanced aura of anyone I’ve ever met!” Tybalt blinked in shock, but Titania wasn’t finished yet. “One day you’re going to destroy yourself, I just hope it isn’t here. I said they should have the whole lot of you shipped home but of course they won’t listen to me, they want drama for their precious cameras! I hope you lose this week, it would serve you right.”

Juliet grabbed Tybalt’s sleeve, her slender fingers digging in through his red leather jacket as she caught his eye with a warning look. At any other time he probably would have heeded her but Tybalt was through listening to Titania’s insults by now, and said so, quite firmly.

“Tybalt, calm down, she doesn’t mean it,” Juliet murmured.

“Oh, I do,” Titania affirmed. “Until Tybalt actually wants my help I don’t see any point to this meeting.”

“Fine then.” Tybalt pulled his arm out of Juliet’s grip and stood up. “ _I_ don’t see any point to this meeting until you stop judging people by their ‘auras’ or whatever.”

As parting lines, it was not his best, but he couldn’t stop to think of anything better without spoiling the moment as he stormed past Titania and slammed through the door of the meeting room.

One of the cameramen started to follow him, so as soon as Tybalt was through the door he broke into a sprint, rounding several corners before the burdened-down cameraman could catch up. Still, Tybalt decided it would be best if he stayed out of sight for a while: Juliet would no doubt be furious with him for being so ungrateful, and since she would be completely right he didn’t want to face her yet.

If he went up to the roof, he might be able to get some privacy. Tybalt headed straight for the first elevator he spotted, darting inside with a cautious glance around for cameras and quickly pressing the button for the top floor.

Just as the elevator started to move, a startled noise behind Tybalt made him turn around, ready to glare down any staffer unlucky enough to share the tiny space with him.

It was Mercutio.

 

 


	11. Part 10

Romeo looked around the room they had been waiting in for the past two hours. Hamlet’s arrival to the studio had been delayed, so the Montakrew, who were supposed to be working with him on the first week week, had been directed to the meeting room and told to wait. 

Romeo and Benvolio were doing exactly that—but Mercutio was nowhere to be seen.

“Do you think he’s okay, Ben?” Romeo asked worriedly. “Are you sure you told him the right place?”

“I’m sure,” Benvolio said with a reassuring smile that looked a little too practiced. “He said he was going to find some snacks. There’s probably just a line or something.”

“I’m going to try calling him again,” Romeo said, pulling out his phone and dialing Mercutio’s number. He doubted it would do any good (Mercutio hadn’t replied to his last seventeen texts) but it was something to do, at least. “You...you don’t think he ran into  _ Tybalt _ , do you?”

Benvolio laughed. “No way! They showed us the meeting schedule, Tybalt and his friend are definitely still busy with filming. Besides, Tybalt wouldn’t dare do anything in front of all those cameras.”

“There were plenty of cameras at the school play…” Romeo mumbled, then sighed dejectedly as the call was dropped yet again. “Where is he? I can’t believe they don’t have cell service here. He’d better get here soon, we’ll need him during the meeting.”

“Oh, they can make do without him if they have to,” Benvolio said. “They’ve been focusing on you plenty, after all.”

“Really?” Romeo glanced around self-consciously for cameras. “But this whole band was his idea!”

“The lead singer always gets more attention,” Benvolio pointed out. “And Mercutio’s too unpredictable for them.”

“But if I’m the lead singer why won’t he let me do One Direction?” Romeo sighed. “It’s not fair…”

“You do realize One Direction really, really doesn’t work for a metal group,” Benvolio pointed out, but his tone was sympathetic, at least. “Look, why don’t you try messaging him on Facebook? Wherever he is, maybe he’s got internet.”

Romeo had a feeling Benvolio had made the suggestion mostly to distract him from the One Direction issue, but it was a good idea. Mercutio wasn’t online on Facebook, so after sending a brief but urgent message Romeo decided to check his friend’s Twitter.

Mercutio’s Twitter, like Mercutio himself, was a bizarre and whimsical place, with no predictability as to what might appear at any given time. Romeo often avoided it for precisely this reason: he had enough of Mercutio in person without dealing with his eccentricities online as well. Facebook was usually safe, since Mercutio knew his uncle would see whatever he posted there.

Romeo glanced at the timestamp on the most recent tweet. “Oh, he’s on twitter!” he announced to Benvolio. “He’s... _ really _ on twitter,” he added as he scrolled through Mercutio’s feed, which had suddenly become extremely active. “Wait. Wait,  _ what. _ ”

Benvolio glanced up as Romeo’s tone changed. “What’s wrong?”

Romeo held his phone up so Benvolio could see the photo Mercutio had posted. The selfie was dim and blurry, taken in some kind of small, metallic space, but both people in it were recognizable.

And one of them was Tybalt.

“Go back, go back,” Benvolio said urgently. “When did he start posting?”

Romeo scrolled down quickly, scanning through the tweets for the first time Tybalt’s name came up. “Here it is!” he announced, beginning to read out the posts.

_ This is the last will and testament of Mercutio Della Scalla.  _

_ I am currently trapped in an elevator with Tybalt Capulet. I fully expect to die within the next two hours. _

_ I have on my person 5 Twix bars, one bottle of Sprite and a tuna sandwich. If any of them are missing when I am found, Tybalt stole them. _

_ Tybalt says he doesn’t like Twix bars. I don’t believe him. _

_ If they’re not missing, I will my snacks to Romeo Montague. Benvolio can share them though. _

_ I would like to state for the record that being trapped in the elevator is not my fault. _

_ I was not trying to play the Elevator Game. _

_ Maybe I was. What’s wrong with that. _

_ Since I am at the point of death, I could care less about confidentiality agreements. Isn’t Tybalt’s guitar adorable? _

This tweet was accompanied by a blurry photograph of Tybalt during last night’s performance. Despite the poor quality, the Hello Kitty decals were clearly visible.

Romeo and Benvolio looked at each other. “We have to find him,” Romeo gasped.

“You’re right,” Benvolio groaned. “Come on, let’s check all the elevators. You keep trying to contact him! And tell him to stop making Tybalt angrier, I’d like to find him still alive!”

* * *

_ 2 hours earlier: _

“What are you doing here,” Tybalt snarled.

“I was here first!” Mercutio retorted, holding up a plastic shopping bag full of snacks as if it was some kind of proof for this statement. “What are you doing here?”

“Trying to get to the roof,  _ obviously _ .”

“But aren’t you supposed to still be filming? Wait…” Mercutio grinned gleefully. “Did you get kicked out? Awwwwww, I’m soooooo sorry…”

“Just shut up,” Tybalt snapped. “You can keep your mouth shut for eight more floors, right? Or is that too hard for you?”

“Fiiiiiiine,” Mercutio whined as Tybalt took up a place in the furthest corner of the elevator.

This left Mercutio as the closest one to the panel of buttons. Tybalt realized, as Mercutio began happily pushing each and every one of them, that this might have been a slight miscalculation.

“Stop doing that.”

“What, are you afraid I’ll break it?” Mercutio laughed. “The inspection thingy says it’s fine until...eight years ago. Oh.”

Tybalt clenched his hands in his pockets and stared fixedly at the changing floor numbers, doing his best to block out Mercutio’s prattling. This was almost worse than the time a new elementary school teacher had assigned them to the same project: at least then they had a whole classroom to avoid each other in. That was impossible when they were in a tiny metal box. Even making it to his destination without punching Mercutio was a struggle.

Finally, the elevator reached the top floor. Tybalt stepped forward, waiting impatiently for the doors to open.

They didn’t.

“What did you  _ do, _ you idiot?” Tybalt growled, shoving Mercutio away from the control panel and pushing the button to open the doors.

“I didn’t do anything!” Mercutio protested.

“You had to have done something!”

Despite Tybalt’s increasingly frenetic button-pushing, the doors remained stubbornly closed. After about half a minute, the elevator began descending again, more rapidly than it had ascended before.

“This is your fault!” Tybalt shouted as the elevator jolted, making him stumble and grab onto the handrail for balance.

“It is not! Everything was fine until you got here! Everything’s always fine until you—”

Mercutio didn’t get to finish, as the elevator jolted again and began dropping faster. As Mercutio had been too busy shouting to bother grabbing onto anything, he was thrown across the elevator and landed in a heap by the door, the shopping bag falling next to him and spilling its contents across the floor. The elevator continued shuddering, and Tybalt lowered himself cautiously to the floor rather than risk losing his grip and ending up sharing Mercutio’s fate.  _ At least he’s too dazed to mouth off for a while... _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk it's probably obvious I don't have a twitter account and generally have no idea how it works? /fail at modern technology
> 
> This is a shorter update than I meant to have, but there was no way the whole elevator scenario would fit in one chapter (and I feel bad leaving the story hanging so long orz)


End file.
